


Tell Me It Made A Difference

by iridecsense



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Canon Universe, During Canon, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Multi, No Manga Spoilers, POV First Person, POV Second Person, Reader-Insert, Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan Anime Spoilers, Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan References, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-12
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-15 14:22:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29934744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iridecsense/pseuds/iridecsense
Summary: "Was it all for nothing?"
Relationships: Armin Arlert/Reader, Connie Springer/Reader, Eren Jaeger/Reader, Jean Kirstein/Reader, Marco Bott/Jean Kirstein, Marco Bott/Reader, Mikasa Ackerman/Reader, Sasha Blouse/Jean Kirstein/Connie Springer, Sasha Blouse/Reader
Comments: 1
Kudos: 23





	1. Foreward, Preface, Or Whatever You Call It

Did you know that I **HATE** first person reader inserts? I never read them because it doesn't feel like 'me' or the version of me that is supposed to be in the story and it makes me cringe. I don't know, they just never appealed to me. So it's ironic that I am starting this fic in the first person. Don't get me wrong, it will not _stay_ in the first person; I just felt that I had to start this story in the first person. Why? I'm not sure, but the words came flowing out of me faster than I could stop them, so here it is. The majority of the story will be in second person point of view. I debated third person (which personally is my favorite but I digress) but I think that the story will be more intimate if it was a mix of both first and second person. The goal is to submerse my beautiful readers (that's you) into this world I created for you. I want you to feel the emotions I make this version of you feel as you read, makes sense? Gosh, I'm just rambling at this point. Fanfiction should never be this serious but I have a flare for the dramatic. 

Anyways, I am saying this because if you are like me and **HATE** first person point of views, I ask that you bear with me and give this work a shot. I'll try my damnedest to make it enjoyable! With Attack on Titan coming to an end, I felt nostalgic and went down my internet-footprint to find the husk of my early fanfiction writing days, in which I began writing (but never finished) an Attack on Titan reader insert as a thirteen-year-old-girl. It is not my best work, and rereading it made me want to delete all traces of it off the internet. However, I saw potential. So, in honor of the Attack on Titan final season, I have decided to remaster my first and only Attack on Titan fanfic as a nineteen-almost-twenty-year-old woman. Hopefully, I can have the motivation and creativity to finish it. And hopefully you all will enjoy it too! I will say, I have a history of making my readers cry (see my other angsty fics for reference) so know that when I say angst, I mean ANGST. I'm not sure what will come of this story yet, and I can't promise a happy ending, but I can promise that I will put deep care into writing this for you to enjoy. That being said, thank you for clicking on my work; and if this is your first time experiencing my writing, welcome, I hope you enjoy it. If you are a loyal reader, hello again! Thank you for your continued support, especially when I S U C K at having a consistent posting schedule. Still, my works haven't disappointed you yet, have they? No? So deal with it, I'm a college student with serious procrastination problems, okay! Sheesh, give a girl a break! 

Remember, I am a creature that thrives off of validation, so spam me with encouraging comments, or even critiques if you must! I always appreciate it. Even a simple "this was good!" or "awesome!" will suffice. And of course, leave a kudos if you really liked it! 

_**Don't send hate though because I will shrivel up and die. /hj** _

Assuming that you have read this far, I present to you _Tell Me It Made A Difference_ , a remastered version of my original work by the same name on Deviantart. 

Enjoy,  
Iridecsense ♡


	2. You Should Know: A Prologue

There is a saying—or maybe it's a phrase— yes, it's a phrase. There is a phrase that always stuck with me ever since I was a kid: "The calm before the storm." It's not a particularly hard hitting quote, I never said that it was. I said that it stuck, and it did. It does. It sticks because it is the truest sentence I have ever heard, more true than the statement, "The sky is blue." Because, sometimes, the sky is not blue. Sometimes it's grey. Sometimes it's black. And sometimes, it's several colors all at once. But there is always a calm before a storm. And a storm can be many things, it doesn't have to be a physical, natural storm. A storm can also be a reckoning. It can be a moment, an action, a _mistake_ that changes your life forever. The storm can be small, but it can also be big. It can destroy everything you once knew and loved, leaving you buried beneath the rubble. While you try your hardest not to suffocate from the pressure, carefully and desperately clawing yourself out of the remnants, you can only reminisce on how good you felt before. That is the calm. The memories of how much happier you were before your world got blown away; before everything turned to shit. Yes, the calm comes before the storm, but it also lives on in your memories during it. It reminds you why you fight—why you continue to crawl out of that damned debris. It gives you hope that maybe—just maybe—once you have risen from the ashes and felt the sun on your cheeks once again—once you've rebuilt your world and healed your wounds—maybe you will experience that calm again. Because that calm—that momentary bliss—is the only thing that makes life worth living. Not even a thousand storms could change that. 

"The calm before the storm" is my proverb. It's the proverb my father taught me. My father taught me many things in the short time I had with him, all of them important. But I find myself thinking of it often these days; these days when it's become harder and harder to remember the calm. I'm starting to wonder if there was ever a calm, or if I was in the eye of the storm the whole time, ignoring the world crumbling around me. I suppose, there was a time where I thought _you_ were my calm. Now...

_**Now I'm not so sure.** _


	3. Remember Me With Love

A gentle breeze ruffling the newly blossomed trees, the buzzing of bees pollenating flowers, the resonance of the running river water, birds chirping from their perches: Spring. It was spring when it happened. You remembered it clearly. You were seven then. You had spent the day playing in the fields alone, collecting flowers and weeds to fashion them into a crown, a skill you learned from your mother. You made two crowns already. The first crown, you wore on your head, made of daisies, clovers, and grass. The second was a crown of yellow dandelions, fashioned for your mother, and it laid in the grass beside you. The third crown, the one you were making, was not like the others. It was smaller and made of wildflowers. It was more of a tiara than a crown, triangular in shape, with a wildflower positioned at it's point like a jewel. A smile pulled at your lips. Satisfied with what you had made, you gathered the two crowns in your hands and began walking through the fields, up a hill that overlooked the district of Shiganshina: your home.

On that hill, high above the rooftops you looked down at the streets below. You saw vendors peddling produce, kids playing in the streets, and police making their rounds. It was another peaceful day inside the walls. From the hill's peak you could see the gates that led to the outside, a place you've never seen. But you knew someone who had. The unmistakable chime of the wall bells rang six times, frightening the small blue birds that rested on a nearby tree. A low rumble came from the walls as the large iron gate that separated Shiganshina from the unknown rose. An excited toothy smile erupted on your childish features. A horde of horses walked inside on the dirt path. What excited you wasn't the horses, but who rode them.

"The Scouts!" You cheered happily, moving your little legs as fast as you could down the hill.

You ran through the fields towards a house that sat at the edge of it, a distance away from the more crowded part of the district. It was small and only two stories tall. It had three windows in the front, one on either side of the front door (though the window on the right was partially covered by a sprouting sapling), and one in the center of the second floor. The red dome-like roof matched the chipping red door. It was built on a small hill at the end of a stone path. Your worn sandals thundered on the stone and the steps that led to the red door, pushing it open with unnecessary strength. You rushed to the side room that happened to be the kitchen. There, standing over the counter washing dishes was a woman with her hair tied back. She wasn't phased by the sound of the door slamming open, or the stomps that followed. She remained unbothered, washing the dishes while humming a melodic tune.

You rushed to her side and pulled her sleeves. "Mama! Mama!" You called. "The soldiers are back!"

The woman turned her attention from the half-cleaned dishes to her daughter and grinned, "Is he now?"

From outside the room, tiny footsteps came descending from the stairs. A three-year-old girl entered the kitchen. She had a mess of curly brown hair and large, round eyes. She smiled, revealing two incomplete rows of teeth. "Sissy!" She rushed towards you, jumping into your arms. You picked her up and embrace her with a big hug. 

"Abi!" You laugh and kiss her on her chubby cheek. "Guess what?" You ask.

"What?"

"Papa is back!" You tell her. "The scouts are back!"

The small child grinned, clapping her hands wildly. "Papa's back! Papa's back!"

You set your sister, Abigail, down on the ground, taking the crown you made for her and placing it on her head, handing the other to your mother who took it kindly. Abigail took your hand in her tiny one and began pulling you towards the door. "C'mon we gotta go!" She yelled as she dragged you outside. 

You turned back to your mother, who had effectively put on her crown. "Mama, aren't you coming?"

The woman let out a chuckle and nodded her head. "You two go on, I'm right behind you. I just have to finish some washing up."

  
You didn't think twice on rushing out the door, chasing your sister down the hill and towards the inner village. Your mother stood at the window smiling, watching at her two daughters run towards the streets. Though, the energy the two girls were met with didn't match their excitement. In the village, it was quiet; save for the sound of the horses drawing carriages and the consistent murmuring between civilians. As a child, you don't see things the way they are. You see the world through rose tinted glasses. It was easy to be blissfully ignorant to the shadowy faces of the soldiers that rode by, or the condescending remarks from spectating citizens. Nor did you notice that there were fewer soldiers that arrived than when the left. All you saw were the brave soldiers that ventured outside the walls to keep humanity safe—to keep _you_ safe; and among those heroes was your father. It was easy to miss the horrified and disappointed faces as you pushed through the crowd. You followed your sister to the front, standing at the edge of the street. You peered up at lowered, searching eagerly for the face of your father. 

"(y/n)." A deep voice came from behind. You turned around to see a tall stoic man starring down at you with ice blue eyes shadowed by thick blonde eyebrows. Behind him was a shorter man, with jet black hair and piercing grey eyes. They both stood next to their horses, holding the reigns with one hand. 

"Uncle Erwin, Uncle Levi!" Abigail gasped and ran up to the two men. You followed close behind, equally glad to see two familiar faces. The men, however, were not as pleased. Those rose tinted glasses didn't allow you to see the forlorn look in their eyes or prepare for the events that would come next. 

You ran up to the raven haired man, bouncing on the balls of your feet. "Levi!"

He reached a hand out to gently pat the top of your head. "Hey, kid." 

"Where's Papa? Is he behind you?" You ask both Erwin and Levi, oblivious to the tension in the air.

Erwin's breath hitched and he averted the eyes of the oblivious child. Levi looked down at you, his eyes showed the slightest bit of pity. Before either of them could open their mouth, your name was called, gaining everyone's attention. 

"(y/n)!" A woman's voice called. "Abigail!"

Your mother squeezed her way between shoulders to reach you. She met the you on the side of the path made for the soldiers to get through, placing an arm around your shoulder and holding onto Abigails hand. 

"Oh, Erwin, Levi." She smiled kindly at the familiar men. "Glad to see you two are alright."

"It's good to see you too, Michelle," said Erwin.

"Sorry for stopping you like this," your mother apologizes. "We know you're busy and have to get back to headquarters, but the girls wanted to say hello to their father. Is Johnathan running behind?"

Erwin turned to your mother once more. "Michelle, you should come to headquarters with us," he said. 

"To wall Rose? Why? What for?" The young woman chuckled nervously.

"Sergeant Dietfried was sent in the first squad with the severely injured." Erwin explains. 

"What? What do you mean, Erwin?" Your mother's grip around your shoulder tightened. 

Erwin's eyes flickered down to your innocent ones, wide and swirling with confusion. "Please, Michelle. Come with us," he said simply. 

"The kids," Levi spoke up. "They should come too."

Your mother looked down at you, loosening her grip on your shoulder. Looking into her eyes made you feel strange. It was a look you'd never seen before, a look that made your stomach churn. For the first time, your rose tinted glasses started to fade. 

Your mother let go of her hold on you, bending down to pick up Abigail before walking over to Erwin's horse. Erwin helped her and your sister onto the horse, before climbing on in front of them. Levi stood in front of you, motioning his head for you to ride with him on his horse, who's coat was as black as his hair. You walked up to them. Levi's hands gently gripped under your arms as he picked you up and placed you on the saddle. He climbed up after, throwing his legs over the horse's side and sitting behind you. His arms came around you to grab the reigns. 

"Hold on," He told you. "You don't want to fall, do you?" 

You shook your head, doing as you were told and gripping the horn of the saddle to keep yourself steady. When he was sure you were comfortable, he kicked the side of his horse, urging it forward. You looked to your left to see your mother and Abigail on the back of Erwin's horse. Erwin and Levi shared a look, Erwin nodding his head to signify something to Levi. Levi seemed to understand, because right after, he gripped his reigns tightly and kicked the side of his horse with more force than before. Erwin did the same, and the horses increased their speed, moving faster than the horses of the soldiers they passed on the road. 

"So... We're going to see Papa, right Uncle Levi?" You asked, still oblivious to what was happening around you. 

Levi sighed through his nose. He didn't answer right away, but you didn't take it personally. You knew he was a man of few words. Eventually, you felt his hand reach up to pat the top of your head.

"Yeah," he said simply. 

You arrived at wall Rose just before sunset. Once you had reached headquarters, Levi quickly dismounted, picking you up you from his steed. Erwin also carefully helped your mother and Abigail off of his horse. Afterwards, a man came up and took the horses to the stables. Your mother took your hand and you followed the two soldiers into the castle. Inside was chaos. There were stations of injured soldiers being tended to by their peers, grieving cadets, and stiff bodies laying on the ground, covered in bloodied linen. The air smelled metallic and had the unavoidable scent of summer musk. It made it that much harder to breathe. You held onto your mother as she shielded you from the grotesque sights, hiding your face in the cloth of her dress. You kept one eye open to look ahead, ignoring your surroundings. Levi and Erwin guided your family through the castle. Erwin stopped a passing soldier and whispered something in his ear. The soldier nodded and walked towards the staircase. 

"This way," said Erwin, gesturing to the staircase the soldier went up. 

You all followed the troop up the winding stairs to the second floor of the castle as he guided you through several halls until you reached the western wing. Upstairs was arguably worse than the chaos downstairs. You'd rather the noisy craze than the muffled moans and cruel cries that came from beyond closed doors. Your mother held you close, your sister cowered in her arms. When you reached the end of a hall, the soldier stopped at a closed door. Unlike the others, there was no sound coming from it. It was quiet. 

"He's in here," said the young man.

Erwin nodded, dismissing the private and turned to the family anxiously waiting at the door. "We will be out here if you need anything," he said to your mother. 

Your mother gave your shoulder a comforting squeeze. You pulled your head from her dress, reaching to take her hand. She gripped it tightly, her breath shaking. She took a step forward, her boot heels thudding against the creaky wood floors. Your smaller steps followed, tapping beside her. You used your free hand to reach for the shining golden knob, turning it until you heard it's click.   
  
The room was small. There was nothing but a singular window to allow a faint beam of light to illuminate your surroundings. By that window, was a bed. Laying inside, was the resting figure of your father.

"Johnathan!" Your mother gasped, relief faintly overlapping her worry. She pulled you towards the bed, where your father pried open his tired eyes and slowly turned his head to see you rushing towards him. 

A weak smile cracked his dry lips. A frail hand reached out from under the covers towards your mother. She let go of your hand to take it, clasping it with great tenderness. She fell to her knees by the bed. Abigail stood on her own between your mother and the edge of the bed. You stood next to them, eyeing your father intensely. What you saw before you was not the man you remembered. The man you knew as your father had (s/c) skin, vivacious eyes, and a heroic, strong disposition. But the person in front of you had pale, sickly (s/c) skin, so pale he looked grey. His face was sunken in, as if the life that once filled it faded away, along with the bright color in his eyes; all that was left was the dull, glazed over version of what they once were. This man didn't look strong. This man was weak. 

"Papa..." Your voice was so... small. It barely came above a whisper. There was a strain in your throat. It felt as though you had swallowed too much bread and it got stuck in your throat taking too long to go down. You reached a small hand to caress your father's sunken cheeks. His skin felt like ice. "You're so cold."

Your mother stifled a choking sob. "Oh John," she cried, her bottom lip quivering as tears welled in her eyes. "What have they done to you?"

"This is the part where you say _'I told you so'_ and curse at me for not retiring when I had the chance." He let out a dry chuckle. 

"I told you so," she joked back, forcing a smile through her tears. 

Your eyes traveled down to the foot of the bed. The once pure white sheets were now colored red and brown with blood. Your mother noticed it too. His smile faded, as well as your father's. "What's this?" She asked. 

"Don't..." He warned.

She ignored his call. Her hand shook as she grazed the lining of the sheet. Once she grasped the bloodied bedding, he made an attempt to sit up, spurring on an intense coughing fit.

"N-No, Michelle don't!" He croaked between coughs but it was too late. Your mother threw back the heavy covers sticky with blood, revealing his lower half. Revealing what was _once_ his lower half.

The covers hid what he did not want you to see: the gruesome affirmation of what dangers exist beyond the walls. His legs had been torn off at his mid-thigh. Tattered flesh hung loosely from his wounds, proof of something large enough with the ability to take a bite from his flesh. In your own silent shock, you heard your mother scream in horror. It was so loud that even the soldiers downstairs had heard. She sobbed and patted the blood filled bed where her lover's legs should be. Your mother's cries prompted the cries of your empathetic and impressionable little sister. You, however stayed quiet, staring wide eyed. The smell of blood and dead flesh filled your nostrils. You felt like throwing up. You could taste the bile rising in the back of your throat and the bubbling churn in your stomach and chest. You couldn't say anything, you couldn't even blink. You wanted to scream. You wanted to sob, vomit— _something;_ but all you emotions were stuck in the back of your throat. All you could do was stare. There was no rose tint to cover the blood, or the mangled form of your father. There was no rose tint at all. Only red. Only the blood that oozed from your father's wounds and onto the white linen sheets. 

"I wish you didn't have to see me like this," your father spoke over your mother's sobs. "But I asked for Erwin and Levi to bring you here. I wanted to see you all one last time."

"What are you saying, Jonathan?" She whispered. 

Your father averted your mothers eyes, staring at their intwined hands. "I'm sorry," he muttered. "I should have been there to help you with the girls. I should have been a husband and a father, not a soldier. I'm sorry I let you down. I let you all down."

It was in this moment that you found the strength to speak. "No you didn't Papa," your voice pushed through the lump in throat. It wasn't strong, and it cracked as you spoke, but it didn't lessen the meaning of your words. "You're the greatest, bravest, kindest, smartest papa anyone could have, honest!"

"Oh, bun-bun," he cooed, reaching up to grasp your left hand. "You're the bravest one here. You helped your mother take care of your sister while I was away. I'm so proud of you."

"I'm proud of you too, Papa," you mutter, tears stinging behind your eyes. 

"Can you promise me something, (y/n)?" He asked. You nodded your head. "Take care of your mother and sister for me, just like you have been. Help your mother around the house, keep your sister safe and out of trouble, and keep yourself out of trouble. Can you do that?"

"Yes."

"You promise?" He pressed.

You straightened your back, held your head up high, and curled your right fist onto your chest in salute; a gesture your father taught you when you were younger. "I promise." 

"That's my little soldier," he smiled, bringing your hand to his lips and pressing a gentle kiss on your knuckles. 

His eyes flickered back to your mother, who now cried silent tears, trying her best to keep her composure. "Michelle," he hummed. "You are the love of my life, the mother of my children, and my reason for living. My only regret is not loving you the way you deserved. If there was ever a moment where you didn't feel my love—"

"I felt it," she stopped him, breaking into a sorrowful smile. "I've always felt it. So don't go thinking you have any regrets, because you don't. You loved me in the best way you could, and it was more than enough."

She leant down, placing a tender kiss on his lips; a kiss filled with deep, unwavering love and passion, a kiss only shared between two people who were connected as one. When she pulled away, heavy tears stained her cheeks and dripped from her chin. Her shaky breathes were the result of the strenuous labour it took for her to not fall apart. 

"Where are you going, Papa?" Abigail's small voice spoke up.

"Papa's not going anywhere, angel," he said. "I'm always going to be around, even when you can't see me. I'll always be right here." He pressed a finger into her chest and tickled where her heart would be. The room became filled with Abigail's giggles, bringing sad smiles to everyones faces. When he stopped, Abigail jumped up to plant a kiss on your father's cheek, making him chuckle. 

"Be good to your sister, okay? Don't cause her too much trouble, okay?" 

The small girl nodded her head. "Okay!"

Your mother held you and your sister close in her arms. Your father looked at you fondly in the silence. The sun was setting, casting an orange hue over the room. Your father's labored breaths were shallow, and he struggled to keep his eyes open. It took him a great amount of effort to look at you through half-lidded eyes. 

"I love you," he said, speaking to all of you. 

"We love you too," your mother answered. 

It wasn't hard to tell that he was reaching his end. You could see it. The angel of death hovered over his withering mortal body, waiting to kiss his cold lips and reap his soul. If your father saw it too, he didn't show any fear. He was brave, even in his very last breaths, still clasping your mother's hand. You watched his eyes flutter close, his wheezing sighs got less and less. His head slowly turned to the side as he let out a long sigh. His chest sunk and it didn't rise again, his face still holding a faint smile of peace. 

"John?" Your mother called desperately, shaking his limp hand. "Johnathan?!"

Just like that, your father was gone. 

  
The ride back to Shiganshina was silent. No one spoke or made eye contact. Erwin and Levi held their heads high riding the horses down the road. Their purpose was to go back to the Shiganshina district, and they'd do it with respect for Sergeant Dietfried. Not only did Erwin and Levi lose a soldier, the lost a good friend; and that was something that hurt them deeply. But they wouldn't show it. They were soldiers, and soldiers are strong. Crying over a loved one was not an option. That's what they signed up for, to protect humanity. They don't have time to cry, no matter how much it hurt. That was the price. That was the price of joining the Scouting Legion.  
  
  


The funeral was held three days later. It was a simple ceremony. People came to say their farewells, most of them soldiers. Your father was a man respected by many, touching the hearts of those around him. They grieved your father's absence, voicing their heartfelt condolences to you and your family. Though, no one mourned like your mother. She didn't even get out of bed that day. You and your sister attended the funeral by yourselves. Erwin and Levi where there, providing some sort of parental comfort, but it wasn't the same. You didn't realize it then, but you hadn't just buried one parent that day. You buried two. 

After the ceremony, Erwin and Levi made sure you and Abigail made it home safely. It was late in afternoon, and you remember feeling very tired. You held your sister's hand as you walked in silence ahead of the two men. It was harder walking up that hill than it was before, your legs aching by the time you reached the top. Before you opened the door, you turned around to thank Erwin and Levi for walking you home. They nodded in response. You opened the door, and Abigail walked inside.You followed after, taking one step before you felt a hand on your shoulder. Erwin had stopped you. You watched him reach into his pocket and pull out something, holding it in his open hand for you to see. It was the wings of freedom, the symbol of the scouts. 

"It was your father's," he said. "He wore it on his jacket, like this." He pointed at the patch on his jacket placed over his heart. "He wanted you to have it."

You took the patch from his hand, holding it in your own. Staring at the wings of freedom evoked something from you, and suddenly the tears you couldn't produce these past few days came spilling out, at first a couple single tears, and then a rushing stream of powerful sobs. You held the patch close to your chest. You called out for you father, holding onto the only piece of him you had left. Levi lowered his head and scowled, his fist clenched at his side. 

Erwin was surprised when you unexpectedly captured him in a hug, crying into his shirt. "Thank you, Uncle Erwin," he managed to hear your muffled whimper. You released him shortly after only to confront Levi, who had been more quiet than usual. You knew he wasn't a particularly affectionate man, so you weren't confident enough to hug him, even though you wanted to. He looked up to see you staring up at him with watery eyes filled with a sense of admiration.

"Thank you too, Uncle Levi," you said. "For everything."

Levi sighed, his scowl softening to his usual indifferent expression. Kneeling down on one knee and taking you by the back of the head, he pulled you into his awkward version of a hug. "Get some rest, kid," he said. 

You nodded, intending to heed his command. When he let you go, you stepped back, a smile breaking through your tears. You waved goodbye as they walked back down the hill to their horses.

Even after all that had transpired those past few days, you still found a way to smile. You still found something to be grateful for; because even though it was hard, and you had lost the most important man in your life, you still had your memories. You still had your family to care for. And that was enough. 


End file.
